


The Boy Who Didn't Exist

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Arguing, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Magic, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 23:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16820632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Carolina has managed to keep her father's clone hidden for a few days, but her luck is due to run out. When Kimball and Grey discover exactly who and what she's been hiding in her room, tempers flare. Carolina finds herself desperately searching for a way to convince everyone that the clone is a person and not a mistake to correct. To do so, she might have to use her spellbook for the very first time.





	The Boy Who Didn't Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks goes out to Aryashi who helped me a lot with this chapter and made quite a few suggestions. 
> 
> Enjoy some Church family drama!

Vanessa taps her pen against the newspaper. She scans the help wanted list one more time, as though a job needing her exact qualifications might miraculously appear on a third read-through. It doesn’t. She sighs. “Two hundred years as a Quizmaster makes for a crappy mortal resume.”

Grey hums in agreement, taking a sip of her morning tea. “Don’t worry! You have a few more weeks before you’re considered a freeloader.”

It’s impossible to tell if she’s kidding or not, so Vanessa just flicks a finger and banishes the useless newspaper to the recycling bin. She hides her frown behind her own coffee mug, and then grimaces as she burns her tongue. She _hates_ being unemployed. Who knew there were so many hours in the day? Glaring into her mug, she mutters, “Screw the Council anyway. And screw Felix.”

Grey giggles. The sound’s as grating now as it was a few weeks ago when the Council summoned them both for a meeting and explained that since Leonard Church has no surviving family, the Council has appointed them both as guardians for his half-mortal daughter for the next two years. “Now, Vanessa, be reasonable! The Council couldn’t ignore the fact that you were a known associate of the man, not after he--”

Carolina bursts into the kitchen like a whirlwind. “Going to eat upstairs and check over my homework,” she says, snagging two bananas in one hand and her plate of waffles and eggs in the other. She’s gone as quickly as she came, her footsteps heavy on the stairs.

When the bedroom door closes, Vanessa waits a beat. Then she leans back in her chair and asks, “So, why do you think she's smuggling food upstairs?”

“Well, she is a growing girl!”

Vanessa squints at her and Grey giggles again. “I'm kidding. She clearly has a pet up there. Probably something illegal from the Other Realm since she didn't tell us about it!” Her sigh is a little wistful. “A girl never forgets her first.”

Vanessa raises her eyebrows, Grey’s nostalgic smile jogging her memory. “I think I heard about that. A basilisk, wasn't it? That turned a Council member temporarily into stone?”

Grey takes a sip of her tea. “It was my Quizmaster, and that was my fourth pet. My _first_ was a water dragon. He just got too big for the house. We had to send him to a dragon sanctuary in China.” 

Above them, something thuds forcefully enough that the lights above Vanessa’s head flicker. “Hopefully it’s neither of those,” she says dryly. Despite how much she hates her unemployment and current situation, she’s amused by another thought. “So…. How long do you think it'll take before Carolina remembers she can just snap food into existence?”

Grey laughs. “She does seem to be having a hard time adjusting to the idea of being witch, doesn’t she? Hm, I hope she’s saving some of that food for herself. She needs a full breakfast, especially with her plans to try out for the track team next week.” She summons another plate of waffles and eggs. “I’ll take these up.”

“Yell if you’re being turned into stone,” Vanessa says, and concentrates on finishing her coffee.

Then the yelling starts.

Vanessa sighs and snaps her fingers. A second later she’s in Carolina’s room, facing Grey, Carolina, and a young man. She stares at the boy for a long moment, disbelieving. Then she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Carolina, a boy? Your father is going to kill me.”

The boy gives her a dark grin and then says in the weirdest accent she’s heard in four hundred years, “You have _no_ idea.”

* * *

Carolina doesn’t know what to do. Grey, Kimball, and her father’s clone are all locked in a staring contest. His face is bloodless, his green eyes wide. Carolina didn’t harbor lingering suspicions that the clone was really her father and this was just some elaborate trick to see her again, but if she had, the sheer panic in his expression would banish them completely. Her father would never show fear like this.

She still doesn’t know why he ran from her father’s workshop. In the past few days, he’s ignored her every time she’s broached the subject, grown defensive every time she’s asked him his plans, and mostly just sat around watching MTV.

Now it’s mostly out of her hands. Grey breathes, “Don’t tell me you discovered the secret of youth, Leonard.”

He glares. “Five hundred years is too early for senility, Dr. Grey. I’m clearly not Leonard Church.” The way he says her father’s name could curdle milk. His bristling bravado crumbles almost instantly, and his shoulders hunch. He adds, a little desperate, “We can keep it a secret. No one has to know what-- what he did. Just give me a few days and I’ll be out of here.”

“And what did he do?” Grey asks. She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. Instead she holds up a finger and intones, “Identify what stands before me, unveil this mystery.” A second later a small scroll pops into existence. Grey grabs it and reads. Her eyes widen. “Oh my. How very, very interesting….”

“My dad messed up the spell,” Carolina says, ignoring the yelped protest. A thought strikes her. “Maybe not being allowed to use magic for sixteen years made him rusty?”

“Excuse me?” he hisses. “ _Rusty_? I was attempting to do something no one has ever accomplished! Every other simulacra lasts a single night and can parrot a mere three sentences. A setback or two wasn’t entirely unexpected, just not at this magnitude!”

Silence reigns for a second. “I?” Carolina repeats, though this isn’t the first time he’s mixed up his pronouns. 

He grimaces. “Don’t be smart,” he says, using her father’s words but his own sulky tone. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so weird. 

Grey taps the scroll against her lips. “I assume Leonard doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Who’s here? Share with the class, Grey,” Kimball says with a scowl.

“Oh, Leonard was _very_ naughty,” Grey says, passing over the scroll. Kimball reads, and her eyes narrow, her lips compressing into a furious line. Meanwhile Grey tilts her head and stares at the clone. “Did he send you here?” 

He hesitates, then gives a little jerk of his head. “No. Don’t tell him,or, or--” A raw laugh escapes him. “Or if you have to, at least give me a head’s start. I have magic if nothing else. I’ll forge a birth certificate, falsify whatever documents mortals require--”

Kimball crumples the scroll in a fist. “Are you kidding me? This is the one rule where the risks of the loophole failing are too high. That idiot put himself and Carolina in danger! I want an explanation right now.” She puts her hands on her hips and shouts, “ _Leonard Church, explain yourself!_ ”

“No!” The clone turns and grabs Carolina’s wrist. Everything about him - his face, his voice, his grip - radiates desperation. “Carolina, I don’t want to be unmade! I just got here, I don’t want to die! Don’t let him take me!”

Carolina recoils. Whatever else the clone is, he’s clearly a person. She’s caught him singing along to a song on the TV more than once, and he’s flushed horribly and been embarrassed every time. She’s heard him in the night, muttering to himself and twitching from dreams or memories. He lights up whenever Carolina brings him a candy bar from the local convenience store, and eats with an intense smugness as he builds his new palate.

He’s a person. A weird one, but a person. Unmaking him? It would be murder. Her father wouldn’t kill someone. She knows that much. Even if he’s spent the last sixteen years lying to her, that makes him a liar, not a killer. “He won’t do that,” she says.

A bitter smile twists the clone’s lips. “Of course he will. You know how he feels about mistakes.”

Carolina hesitates.

He sees her moment of doubt, and for a second something strange flickers across his face: a mixture of relief and hurt. Then he leans closer. “He’ll want to destroy the evidence. You can’t let him take me back. _Please_.” His voice breaks on the last word.

“Leonard Church!” Kimball yells. She looks ready to shout again, but Grey puts a hand on her arm and says, “Don’t be hasty, Vanessa. I want some time to study the simulacrum. And if you summon Leonard, then he will have officially broken the rule of not seeing Carolina.”

Kimball scowls. She brushes Grey’s hand away and points at the clone. “Don’t you care what will happen if someone from the Council found _that_ here? Forget Leonard, we’d all be in trouble. Do you want to be a witch familiar for fifty years?”

“Oh, _we_ didn’t break the law,” Grey says dismissively. Then she looks pensive. “I suppose they could argue that we were accessories after the fact, but--”

“The Council won’t care about legality if they want to make an example of us. You remember, some witch got a ten-year sentence just for letting Loc--”

The clone whispers to Carolina, “Distract them, and I’ll run.”

Grey laughs. “Oh no you don’t!”

Carolina doesn’t catch the words of the spell, but she sees its effect: the clone’s fingers freeze on Carolina’s wrist. His entire body, tensed and ready to bolt, doesn’t move. He barely seems to breathe. Only his eyes dart between Grey and Carolina, radiating fear and rage.

“That’s better,” Grey says. “Now let’s have a look.” She moves closer, sidling between the clone and Carolina; the clone’s hand slips from Carolina’s wrist and hangs motionless in the air. She purses her lips. “The foundation of the spell is clearly the clone spell, but--”

“Um, Doctor Grey,” Carolina interrupts. “I don’t know what that scroll told you, but he’s been staying here for a couple days now, and I think he--”

“A couple days?” Kimball growls. “How many, exactly?”

Carolina fights back a wince. “Uh, since Monday night?”

Kimball’s expression is thunderous.

Grey ignores them both in favor of studying the clone’s face. “I always wondered what Leonard looked like as a young man.” She giggles and taps the clone’s forehead with a canary yellow fingernail. “I see even he succumbs to acne.”

A wordless, furious noise escapes the clone’s lips. 

“Doctor Grey!” This time Grey looks at her. Carolina takes a deep breath. “From what, uh, he--” She motions towards the clone. “--told me, my dad was trying to improve the clone spell so he could put his own mind into the simulacrum and visit me, and it went weird. Instead of a simulacrum, he’s more like a clone with my dad’s memories but his own personality.”

Grey’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, Carolina, that seems unlikely. Magic has its limits.” Despite her words, she looks intrigued. She points her finger again at the clone and begins murmuring under her breath. A few seconds later the clone is surrounded by whirling purple letters, kanji, and numbers, all shifting too quickly for Carolina to make out a sentence. “I should have more information shortly. In the meantime, Carolina, you should get ready for school.”

Carolina doesn’t move. “What are you going to do with him?”

“Study it,” Grey says, blinking at her. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“You can’t hurt him,” Carolina says, folding her arms against her chest. She says ‘him’ pointedly. “I’m not going to school if you’re going to send him to my dad or--or dissect him or something.”

Grey blinks again. She glances at Kimball, who just scowls at them both, still clearly furious at the whole situation. She shakes her head. “I wouldn't dissect it! For one thing that would damage the spell and I want to study it. And for another, Leonard sealed his magic and there's only so much I can do without destroying the clone completely.”

“And?” Carolina prompts.

Grey looks blank. “What do you mean?”

“And also it’s wrong to murder….?”

“Is it?” Grey says vaguely.

Carolina stares at her. Then she says, “I don’t know what magic can or can’t do, but somehow the spell made a person, so you need to treat him like one or….” She flounders. Kimball warned her about the Council, but both Kimball and Grey have centuries of magical experience too. What can Carolina do to stop them?

Grey studies her for a moment, frowning slightly, and then shrugs. She points her finger.

The purple letters and numbers don’t stop swirling around the clone, but he suddenly stumbles a little and draws in a deep breath. He rubs his hands over his arms and shudders all over, like a dog shaking off water. Glaring, he snaps, “Don’t do that again, Emily.”

“Interesting,” Grey says in response, back to smiling from ear to ear. “A clone without a three-sentence limitation. He’d planned to put his consciousness into the simulacrum? What a wonderfully dangerous idea! There are so many variables that could go wrong. What did he use in place of Man Dough?”

“I have no idea,” the clone says sourly. “The days before the spell are a bit hazy. Obviously something more durable.”

“So there’s a limit on the memories the spell could copy?” Grey says, and then begins quizzing the clone with a series of rapid-fire questions that he rolls his eyes and grudgingly answers.

Carolina relaxes a little. Grey won’t turn the clone over to Carolina’s father or take him apart, at least not while she’s still studying him. Now there’s just Kimball to deal with, who still looks furious.

Kimball meets her eyes. “Monday night,” she says, her voice flat. “Was this before or after we had that talk about not disobeying the Council?”

“After,” Carolina admits. She winces at Kimball’s scowl. “Look, he asked me for help! What was I supposed to do? Say no?”

Kimball sighs. She rubs a hand over her face. Her expression softens, and her voice is gentle when she says, “Carolina, it might sound like your dad, but it’s a clone. It isn’t a person.”

Carolina shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Okay, sometimes he says something like my dad, or mixes up his pronouns, but he also does stuff that my dad would never do in a million years. He's not Dad. He's his own person.”

Kimball looks unconvinced.

Carolina’s chest tightens. She imagines coming back to the brownstone and the clone being gone without a goodbye. Does he hate goodbyes as much as her parents, she wonders, and swallows hard.

“You guys can’t send him away. And he doesn’t want to go back to my dad. Can’t we just let him stay here until he figures something out?”

Kimball sighs again. “Carolina, this is serious. The clone puts you and your family at risk. If the Council found out what your dad did….”

Carolina starts to argue, but stops when Kimball raises her hand.

“I don’t want to hear it. You should’ve told us as soon as the clone showed up. We’ll talk tonight, after Grey’s finished studying it, and decide what to do then.”

“I assume you won’t be asking for my input,” the clone says waspishly.

“Go downstairs and eat some breakfast,” Kimball says, ignoring him. “You’re going to miss the bus if you don’t get moving.”

Kimball’s right, but Carolina hesitates. She looks at the clone. He’s twitchy and miserable, his face strangely lit by the still glowing, moving purple symbols swirling around him. Maybe by the time she gets back to the brownstone, Grey’s diagnosis will be finished and they’ll understand that the clone is a person. If not, Carolina has a few hours to figure out how to save him. She waits until Kimball looks distracted by the spinning symbols, then grabs her backpack and stuffs her spellbook into it. Maybe there’s a spell in there that will actually be useful.

“So, what’s the very first memory the spell copied?” Grey asks.

The clone flushes. His voice cracks. “None of your business!”

* * *

Carolina can’t focus at school. Donut has to call her name three times before she remembers to say present in Homeroom, she leaves her chemistry homework in her locker and Simmons has to give her a hall pass to get it, and it’s only Niner’s quick reflexes that keep her from walking into the boys’ bathroom by mistake.

It’s only when she walks straight into the door trying to get to study hall that Wash finally asks, “Jeez, Carolina, are you okay? Uh, about your face but also just in general.”

Carolina’s entire face hurts, though at least she isn’t seeing stars. When she touches her nose, she’s almost surprised not to see blood. “Ow,” she mutters, and then refocuses on Wash. “What?”

Wash’s frown deepens. “Are you okay?”

Carolina laughs, and hears the edge to it too late. “Yeah. Just…. Having a weird day.” She hopes he’s doesn’t press, because she doesn’t want to lie to him.

Maybe that shows in her face, because Wash gives her a curious look but only asks, “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

She’s uncomfortably aware that her spellbook is in her backpack, and even more aware that she hasn’t had a spare second to search through it. From what she’s heard about the school nurse Mr. DuFresne, his go-to is letting kids lay down on a curtained bed for a half-hour. Maybe she can read her spellbook there. “Probably a good idea,” she says. “I really don’t want to try out for track with two black eyes.”

She’s right about DuFresne. He makes sympathetic noises, asks if she wants him to call a parent or guardian, and then, when she says no, offers her an ice pack and advises her to sleep for the rest of the period.

“Just let me know if you start feeling nauseous or dizzy!” he says before he closes the curtain around her bed. His footsteps retreat, and then she hears the sound of the door closing. 

There’s a faint light coming through the top of the curtain, just enough for her to read. Carolina waits a few minutes and then carefully pulls her spellbook from her backpack. She’s surprised all over again by its weight. Shouldn’t a magical book be magically lightweight or something?

“Okay,” she whispers. She takes a deep breath, a little nervous. She’s holding power in her hands, even though magic still seems like more trouble than it’s worth. “Here goes.” She opens it slowly. The book falls open to an index. Squinting in the dim light, she scans down the list, though she’s not sure what she’s looking for. Protection spells? A teleportation spell so she can send the clone somewhere safe?

She skips down to the Ps. Her eyebrows raise as she reads through the index. “Pain? Peppermint? Periwinkle (See Color)? Poison? Popcorn? Okay, being a witch is weirder than I thought.” She finally gets to the protection spells, which points her to page 275. Most of the spells have ingredients that either sound made up (dragon scales), hard to get (black garlic), or morbid and impossible (the dying breath of a dodo).

Finally she finds one that only needs a fistful of salt and a few words. It’s a temporary spell that only lasts for a few minutes, but maybe it will show Grey and Kimball how serious she is. Either that, or it’ll give him enough time to escape.

Carolina closes her spellbook and slides it back into her bag. Then she pokes her head through the curtains and says, “Mr. DuFresne? I think I’m feeling better. Could I go back to Study Hall?”

“Of course!” he says cheerfully. Then he thrusts a container at her. “Lollipop? They’re sugar-free!”

“Oh, thanks,” Carolina says slowly. She fakes enthusiasm as she takes a random one, wondering what’s up with the American obsession with sweets, sugar, and junk food in general.

“Feeling better?” Wash asks when she gets back to study hall, and then winces as Sarge yells from across the cafeteria, hidden behind the huge banner he's trying to hang up to remind everyone about the upcoming sports tryouts, “No talking, Washington!”

She smiles and shrugs.

* * *

There’s no one in the living room when Carolina walks into the brownstone, but she can hear muffled voices. The voices are too low for her to make out any words. The lack of shouting is either a good sign or a really bad one.

She puts one hand into her pocket. Her fingers close around a fistful of salt. She goes over the spell one last time, mouthing it to herself. Then she follows the voices.

Seated at the kitchen table, the clone turns as Carolina enters. “Please help,” he says. “This woman is incorrigible.” He scowls at Grey, who’s got her chin in her hands and is watching him avidly. The fear’s gone from his voice. Annoyance has replaced it. There’s still a hunted look on his face, but there’s also a mountain of food in front of him, all seemingly untouched.

Kimball is standing in the far corner of the kitchen, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Carolina keeps her grip on the salt. She raises an eyebrow and asks cautiously, “What’s going on?”

“The clone refuses to let me run certain tests,” Grey says. A pout flits across her face. “It claims that its digestive system works in the exact manner of a regular person’s, but won’t let me confirm that assertion.” To the clone, she adds, “Leonard would pursue the same scientific inquiry.”

The clone turns bright red. “Maybe, but we all have our limits and this is mine!”

“Wait,” Carolina says, glancing between them. Despite the situation, she has to swallow down a laugh. “Are you trying to prove that he can use the bathroom?”

“Yes!” Grey says.

The clone groans miserably and drops his head into his hands.

Kimball takes a step forward. “Are we done?”

Grey blinks at her. “Done?”

“Your diagnostic spells are finished. We’ve just been arguing with it for the last hour. Are we done?”

The clone lifts his head, nervous again.

Carolina tightens her grip on the salt in her pocket and takes a breath.

Grey frowns and says, “But my diagnostics were inconclusive. The spell seems permanent but until I can test its blood at the hospital--”

“No,” Kimball says. “Grey, every hour it stays here is an hour that Carolina is in danger. I’m not risking her safety for another day for more tests.” She raises her voice, and before Carolina can do anything, shouts, “Leonard Church, though we cannot see you face to face, speak to us magically in this place!”

“No!” the clone yelps, and then sinks low in his chair as a voice says from a nearby portrait, a cold, terrible rage in that familiar drawl, “It came _here_?”

“Hello, Leonard,” Grey chirps. She shakes a finger at the portrait. “You have been _very_ bad.”

“Way to downplay things, Grey,” Kimball says flatly. She steps close to the portrait. Carolina’s surprised that the picture doesn’t go up in flames from Kimball’s glare alone. “What were you thinking? No, you know what, I don’t care. How are you fixing this?”

Carolina’s father doesn’t say anything at first. The portrait is a small one, but finely detailed. She can see the way he twists the portrait’s mouth into a frown. He says stiffly, “Send it back to me and I’ll--”

“No!” the clone shouts, springing to his feet. 

Carolina reacts to the terror in his voice. She pulls out the salt. The clone flinches as it hits him. “Protect him from all harm and pain, whether it be magical or mundane.” 

There’s silence, and Carolina flushes as everyone stares at her.

“A protection spell?” Kimball says. Carolina can’t read her expression.

She expected the clone to run, but he doesn’t move. The salt glitters in his shaggy hair. He runs a hand through it slowly. There’s a faint glow around his head. He smiles at her, and it’s a new smile, sad and grateful at the same time. “It won’t work, but thanks.”

Carolina frowns. “I know it only lasts for five minutes, but you can--” 

“We haven’t taught you how to seal your spells yet,” Kimball says, still with that unreadable look. “Any grown witch can break your protection.” She points at the clone and says, “Carolina meant well, but now I must undo the spell.”

The faint glow disappears like it was only a trick of the light.

“Carolina,” her father says. Rage simmers in his voice, but it’s not directed at her. “I don’t know what it told you, but its very presence puts you in danger. Let me handle this.”

“Not if you’re going to kill him,” Carolina says, her throat tight.

The portrait stares at her.

“Oh my, this is complicated,” Grey says, sounding delighted by the tension in the room. “But I agree with Carolina. Destroying an experiment that’s one of a kind? It would be like burning a Bosch painting!”

“Grey,” Kimball snaps. “You can’t possibly--”

“Which is why the clone is staying here,” Grey continues, smiling.

The kitchen gets loud at that proclamation. Kimball and Carolina’s father start shouting, and the clone laughs half-hysterically and says, “Seriously? Seriously?”

Grey waits for a lull in the yelling, and then laughs. “With a few caveats, of course! From my brief study of the clone, the spell seems permanent. At first glance, he appears to be a teenage boy. Why, if we use Occam’s razor, most people would assume he’s Leonard's son, and not a clear violation of Council law.”

The clone stops laughing. “No, I am _not_.”

Kimball’s frustration has shifted to skepticism. She shakes her head. “It won’t work. The Council would want to know where Leonard has been hiding him.”

Grey shrugs. “Would Leonard have admitted to an indiscretion, especially with his mortal wife expecting their first child? The witch took responsibility for their son until he turned sixteen and started to study for his witch’s license.”

“My dear Emily,” the clone and Carolina’s father snap together, and then both stop, the clone glaring at the portrait as Grey giggles.

“I know, I know, how very embarrassing for you, Leonard! But your options are limited.” The smile drops from her face. Her voice is still cheerful, but there’s a dangerous edge to it as she adds, “I’d prefer not to tell the Council about the clone, because they would destroy it and your punishment would upset Carolina. But I will if you continue to believe that you can bring trouble into my house and tell me how to handle it.” 

The portrait actually rattles on the wall. “Emily….”

Grey actually walks over and pats the frame. Cheerfully ruthless, she says, “Now, now, Leonard. I realize you're not accustomed to having your mistakes literally walking around, but that's why it's staying here with us.” 

“He,” Carolina corrects, her mouth dry. “You have to treat him like a person.” She darts a glance towards the clone, who looks like it’s only disbelief and outrage that keeps him from laughing hysterically again. “And he needs a name.” 

“Grey, are you sure about this?” Kimball asks.

Grey glances between Carolina and the clone. She looks pensive. “I suppose it does need an assumed name, if just for the Council’s sake. Though I doubt the clone will remember it isn’t Leonard,” she says, and ignores the way the clone glares at her. “Vanessa, this seems like the best solution.”

Kimball sighs and scrubs a hand across her face. “I miss being a Quizmaster,” she says to no one in particular. “I just had to deal with lazy teenagers who didn’t want to do spellwork.”

Carolina steps closer to the clone. “What do you want your name to be?”

He looks wild around the eyes, and she’s not surprised when he laughs again, still hysterical. “I don’t know! I didn’t think I was going to exist a minute ago!”

“Leonard, do you want me to handle the birth certificate?” Grey asks. “I’ve always liked the name James.”

Carolina’s father says coldly, “Whoever or whatever you take into your home is not my business, but keep it away from Carolina.”

The clone turns, his eyes narrowing. He scoffs. “Don't worry, _Leonard_ , it was never my intention to stay here. If Emily creates a birth certificate, I’ll work on getting emancipated once I officially exist in the Mortal Realm. Then I’ll be out of everyone’s hair.”

Carolina doesn’t think it will be as simple as that, but she’s not going to argue. “Dad,” she says, and then bites her lip as the portrait turns its painted eyes towards Grey and says, “Be as elaborate as you like with this farce, since you won’t listen to reason. I’ll be in touch tomorrow to learn what falsehoods you’ve chosen.”

The portrait goes still. Carolina blinks, disbelieving, but her father’s gone without even a goodbye.

Kimball sighs. “I hate to admit that he’s right, but this is a farce. We can’t possibly pull this off, can we?” She stares dubiously at the clone, who scowls.

“We’ll have to!” Grey says with a careless shrug. She turns to the clone. “I think I have someone in mind to play your mother. She owes me a favor, and she lives on a remote moon of Jupiter, so any strangeness can be blamed on the seclusion. You need to remember to call yourself James Church.”

The clone transfers his glare to Grey. “I’m not an idiot. I can remember a simple alias. But I’m not taking _his_ surname.”

Grey laughs. “We’ll see about that. I’ll go visit Huggins. She might not agree to this charade, after all, and the sooner we procure a fake mother the better!” She disappears up the stairs.  
  
Carolina sits in the nearest chair. She can’t forget the way her father spoke to the clone. She remembers the clone’s bitter certainty that he would be unmade, but her moment of doubt had been just that, a single moment. Now the doubt weighs on her. None of the adults think of the clone as a person, but her father’s hatred is worse than Grey’s clinical curiosity and Kimball’s mistrust. He would have killed the clone, she thinks, and the thought makes her throat get tight and her head hurt.

“Uh, Carolina,” the clone says. He smiles tentatively, not quite meeting her eyes as he mumbles, “Thank you for trying with that protection spell. I...I appreciate it.” There’s still salt in his hair and on his shoulders, glittering uselessly in the lamplight.

“It wouldn’t have worked,” she reminds him.

He shrugs and sits down beside her. “You didn’t know.”

“My dad,” she says, and her throat closes up. “He was going to--” She can’t say it out loud.

“Hey,” the clone says. He looks alarmed. “Don’t-- Uh. Crap. It’s okay.” Her expression must change, because he adds hastily, his voice getting higher and faster, “Right, it’s not okay. Don’t listen to me, I thought I was going to be dead a minute ago. I don’t know what I’m saying. Just--” He waves his hands around, even reaches out like he’s going to pat her arm before he clearly rethinks the gesture. “It’s going to be okay. Grey will get me a birth certificate, I’ll pass my witch’s exam early and get out of here, and Leonard and I will never have to see each other again.”

Carolina isn’t going to cry, not in front of the clone or Kimball, who’s watching them with a faint frown. She forces a watery laugh. “You’re going to pass your witch’s exam early? I know you have most of my dad’s memories, but the test has probably changed since the 16th century. Plus, it probably won’t ask what’s number one on the billboard charts.”

“Mariah Carey’s Honey,” the clone says with a wry twist of his mouth. Then he glances down, and Carolina remembers the enormous amount of food piled on the table. There’s too much food for even four people to eat. Even as she frowns at the waste, the clone slides a plate with burger and fries closer to him. “I’m going to eat before Emily gets back. You have no idea how unappetizing it is to have her watch you eat.”

“I don’t,” Carolina agrees. She tilts her head and raises an eyebrow as she pulls DuFresne's lollipop out of her other pocket and sets it beside the clone's plate. “Though I see some lettuce on that burger. Are you sure you want to ruin your palate with something healthy?”

He makes a face at her. “Funny.”

“Mind if I eat too?” Kimball asks, speaking so suddenly that Carolina almost startles.

“Sure,” the clone says, eyeing her warily. “Unless you’re taking notes for Emily, in which case I’ll take my meal upstairs to Carolina’s room. There are some things I would prefer to remain private, and my bodily functions is one of them.”

Kimball shoots him one last unreadable look. “I’m not. But if you’re staying here, you need your own room.”

“There’s only three bedrooms,” Carolina says. She’s confronted with two nearly identical looks of amusement, the clone smirking around a mouthful of burger.

Kimball shakes her head. “We’re witches, remember?” She points a finger at the ceiling. The entire house quakes and shudders. Then everything goes still. She smiles, satisfied. “Now we have four.”


End file.
